Brave-Throat, Part Three: Metaphysics, Simple Math and the Stanley Cup

(Photo by Ethan Miller/Getty Images)

"Ok, I get it, I get it. If we don't save the Braves, we lose them all. Now what?"

"Simple math. Like I said."

"Math?"

"One more time, John. How many season tickets?"

"55K."

"And what's the franchise worth?"

"300 Million?"

"Right. Now divide it."

"Divide 300 Mill by 55K?"

"Duh!"

I got out my smart phone, pushed the button for the calculator feature.

"For Chrissake, Howell," he said. "Round numbers."

"Oh." I blanked for a moment. Brain fart. I am over 50 after all.

"C'mon, John.  300 divided by 50."

"Six."

"Times a thousand?" 

"6K. So?"

"We've been over this before, remember? He sighed big, leaned back, turned and leaned into my intimate space. "So if the same number of people who bought a season ticket to the Ralph could come up with another six grand-- on average-- we'd have the whole enchilada."

"But can they?"

"To keep the Bills and the Sabres? And do a championship sweep? Considering it's an investment not a contribution? It's money for equity. Better than home ownership, these days."

"Yeah, but six G's times 50,000? Buffalo's not LA."

"Well, that's the point, isn't it?  Listen. Some people can give more. A lot more. What about Golisano? He says he's saving $15 mill a day in taxes by moving to Florida. He might be willing to give up a few days of tax money. And there's Kelly. And Thurman. And what about some of the old Braves? Randy's gone, may he rest in peace..."

At the mention of Randy Smith, Brave-Throat reflexively removed his hat, bowed his head (just for a split second, as if he'd forgotten where he was, who he was with) and quickly put it back.

Without the hat, he looked vaguely familiar, but it was just a fleeting glance. Too quick to register in my aging brain.

"You know," he said, stuttering slightly as if he was rattled by his slip. "You know, maybe Mac, Ernie, maybe even Snyder. Maybe the Knox's, now that they've divested the Sabres. All kinds of people might have their reasons to throw in a whole lot more than six G's."

"But what does that have to do with me?" I asked. I don't know any of those people."

"You're the town crier," he said. "You put it out on the web. Write some articles. Call some people. Send some emails. Get all of this to go viral. And then, let the Spirit do its work."

I had a feeling, despite his earlier reference to the Trinity, he wasn't talking about the Holy Spirit here.

"Ok," I said. "I am your servant. I have heard the call, and I answer."

"Let's go Buffalo!" He said, smiling wide with a mischievous glint, as he opened the door and nearly pushed me out.

The limo was screeching tires, speeding away before I was firmly on both feet.

(This column is the third in a series about clandestine meetings with the Mystery Man, Brave-Throat. Find links to parts one and two at the author's profile.)

Note: for an extensive set of links to recent videos, articles, & audio clips about the Buffalo Braves, see Chris and Tim Wendel's blog, Buffalo Nation http://buffalonation.wordpress.com/

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